Terminator: Origin
by Solvdrage
Summary: John Connor thought the burden of his destiny was clear. In the city of Fairport he will discover a hate and a darkness that transcends not only simple death, but Judgment Day itself... HIATUS
1. Interval 01: Arrival

_I hate the month of May_.

The young man's dislike of the month of May ran much deeper than his traumatic experiences he had in Mays past. At his core, John Conner hated _time_. John Connor had the curse of knowing the future in almost exact terms. He had been stripped of the blissful ignorance of the end of the world that billions of humans took for granted.

He sank deeper into the train's seat as he reflected on destiny and inevitability. John hadn't used public transportation in over three years. However, his motorcycle had been stolen. Though, he found himself admitting, it was nice to catch up on some sleep...

John blinked trying to clear his head. He was still sitting in his train seat. In a moment of horror he realized he was in a burnt out city.

"Judgment Day." John muttered to himself. This wasn't just a nightmare; it was a vision of things yet to be. He had this nightmare every time he arrived in a new city. John saw the death of the city, its murder at the hands of Skynet.

"Who are you?" A small, distant voice filled John's ears. He groaned as he looked ahead. There hadn't been another person in John's visions of Judgment Day since his mother died of Leukemia years ago. This time, however, there was a little girl no older than eight standing a few feet away.

"Are you alright?" John rose from the train seat. The girl didn't respond, but merely turned and walked away holding a doll loosely in her left hand. The future leader of the Resistance jogged to catch up to her, but she suddenly disappeared into what looked like a three dimensional ink blot. As the black expanse disappeared, a sound like the squeal of a broken speaker filled the air drowning out the crackle of the fires surrounding the area. John saw the inky disturbance in the distance. The girl emerged from the darkness and simply stared at John.

"Wait!" John ran after her, leaping over the debris of the ruins. As he passed a burning truck, the girl disappeared into a golden hemisphere. Inexplicably, there was a small tree with a swing over the light.

"It's a dream, what the hell?" John took a step into the light and his world went drab. It was the only word that could describe the complete loss of detail. He took a cautious step forward. As he continued to advance on the only vague shape he could see, detail and some color returned to the world. It was the same tree and swing that was above the lighted pool he had seen earlier. The girl was swing happily, higher and higher. In the distance, there were the cooling towers of a nuclear power plant. Strangely, there was a faint distant music in the air. He finally reached the top of the hill.

"Hello?" The girl finally acknowledged John as she turned slightly to face him. A sudden feeling of foreboding gripped John and without thinking he grabbed the girl off the swing.

There was an all too familiar flash of light. It was the herald of the coming terror. John knew intellectually that his attempts to shield the young girl were doomed to failure. The nuclear blast would incinerate them both.

But damn it, he was a _human_. He would not deny this innocent child the fleeting kindness of his futile attempt to protect her.

John Connor did not feel the young girl cling tightly to him as the heat wave burned them to ashes.

John cried out as he awoke. He looked quickly around and relaxed as he realized he was back in his train car. He was groggy from the nightmare. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and only then did he hear the music. He looked into the empty seat next to him and saw an old ornate music box. Immediately, John went into combat mode. The box wasn't there when he came into the room. Was it a bomb? A Skynet attempt on his life?

"**John Connor**" A deep, hollow voice called to him. He quickly turned away from the music box and barely registered the Terminator Endoskeleton as it throttled his neck.

John let out a ragged scream and drew his pistol. He nearly fired off a shot into the empty wall of the compartment. There was no metal hand around his neck, no gentle music. There was only his heavy breathing and his gun pointed into nothingness. He slipped the weapon into his jacket as the door opened. An elderly black man leaned in.

"You alright son? You screamed like you were trying to wake the dead."

John smiled weakly. "Just had an old nightmare."

The old man smiled and reached into his coat pocket. John tensed; he couldn't trust strangers, not after the T-1000. Instead of a weapon, the old man tossed a flask towards John. John tipped the flask at its owner and took a swig. The alcohol was strong and burned on the way down. It helped. John coughed and handed the flask back to the old man.

"Thanks. We in Fairport yet?"

The old man caught the flask. "We'll be arriving in a few minutes. Word of advice, son?"

John reached across the sleeper car and grabbed his only bag. "Always appreciated."

"Stay out of Auburn, place ain't natural."

The old man simply left. A few minutes passed just as the old man said and the train slid into Fairport Station. John took in the city. He hadn't been to this section of the country before. Most of his efforts centered on the Southwest. All reports from his future associates, enemies and even himself mentioned that he mainly focused on that region of the country. He had decided almost on a whim to head to this area. It certainly didn't hurt to be unpredictable. The Machines might find it harder to track him and he needed to assess the potential for future Resistance bases in the area.

He also had dozens of warrants in Los Angeles relating to his attack on Cyberdyne Systems facility when he was ten. He took a deep breath and started walking. He never turned to look back towards the train. He never saw the little girl in red watching him from his train compartment.


	2. Interval 02: Gathering

The man stumbled out onto the streets of Fairport naked and swaying. None of the passer-bys gave him any attention as the man stumbled aimlessly into the open street.

A couple stared wide-eyed as the man approached them. "You should be ashamed, being so drunk in public!"

The man smiled. _Good, they think I'm a drunk. It'll make things easier._

"Hey! We came into this world like this and we'll leave like this!" The woman gasped at the tone of the drunk. He was under orders not to reveal that he was a time-traveler. TechCom had told him what Kyle Reese's experiences had… would be like in 1984.

The couple stormed off. A priest walked over to the 'drunk'. "What's your name son?"

"Sergeant Ken Gantz."

The Priest nodded. There had been a lot of soldiers like this recently, especially after the Zimbabwe Intervention and the latest round of firings from ATC's old security force.

"I'm Father Roberts. If you follow me to the church, I'll get you some clothes and coffee."

Ken nodded. Some coffee couldn't hurt. However, he couldn't really trust anyone who believed in a higher power. A higher power, a god, wouldn't have let Judgment Day happen. A higher power wouldn't have created Skynet or Paxton Fettel.

"Thanks, pops."

Father Roberts took off his overcoat and handed it to Ken. The pair headed for the church.

The coffee was amazing. It was clear that it was actual farmed coffee, not the pseudo coffee he was used to swallowing. Sergeant Gantz tugged on the clothes. They were hand-me-downs, but they were a good sight nicer than what he commonly wore in the resistance.

"The clothes fit well?" The priest asked as he washed some vegetables.

"Yes sir." Ken licked his lips at the smell. The old man was cooking chicken. Ken had heard that before Judgment Day, people had meat at almost every meal. Best of all, the meat wasn't from a rat.

"That's good, son. Do you have family or friends in Auburn? I'm sure they are worried about you."

"I've got some friends coming in from out of town. One's a, uh, Private Investigator. He's got a job looking for a, uh, runaway."

Father Roberts began cooking the vegetables. "I hope you find the child. Do you have any information on the missing child? I would love to help."

_He's a good man. There is a part of me that hopes he survives Judgment Day. We could use more people like him. But there is a part of me that hopes he doesn't have to face the nightmares of the Machines._

"Sorry, Father. I don't have any information on the kid. My buddies haven't gotten into town yet."

The Priest continued to cook the vegetables. "Mm… When they get in town, contact me. I'll do everything I can to help."

The rest of the conversation was small talk. The meal was simple, but to Ken it was a culinary masterpiece. He regretted meeting such a good man.

Father Roberts did not deserve to be connected to the War or the Replicas.

* * *

The energy discharged from the Time Displacement Wake. The concrete glowed red hot where the incredible power of a tear in space-time existed for a lifetime and an instant. A glowing sphere hummed as it entered this plane of reality. It appeared as metal, but its true substance was as far from matter as thought.

The orb of displaced time collapsed and in its place was a kneeling giant. It rose to its feet and scanned the surrounding area. The night was cold, but the giant only noted it as environmental data. The area was a rundown industrial sector. In the distance, it noted a store. As it was now, infiltration was impossible. Supplies would be necessary.

"What if someone hears us?" A skittish teen looked around the corner.

His accomplices were attempting to disable the security system. "Calm down Eddie. This is fucking Auburn. Nobody really lives here. People work at the docks and then get the hell out of here at night."

The second thief nodded. "Can't blame 'em. This place is creepy. Ok, Smitty, I've got the phone-line diverted. How's the camera's coming?"

Smitty slammed the covering shut. "Just got them down. Go get Tree. It's go time."

Tree was the supposed leader of this small time group of thieves exited his Cadillac. "Let's go make some money…"

"Hey fellas, get a load of this mother fucker." The group turned and busted out laughing as a very large naked white guy approached them.

Eddie was the last to stop laughing. "Out for a little stroll?"

The man didn't answer at first. Suddenly he pointed at Tree. "Your clothes. Give them to me."

The others exchanged looks once again. Was this guy German or something? Smitty pulled a pistol from behind his back. "Now listen here. I don't know how they do shit in Berlin, but round 'ere… Round 'ere that shit won't fly."

"Your clothes. Give them to me."

Tree motioned with his hands. "Guy's obviously wasted. Just shoot'em Smitty."

The shot rang out and shattered the stillness of Auburn's night. The German didn't even flinch. He simply looked down at the bullet hole in his chest and back to the group.

"Fuck me…" Eddie breathed.

The German moved so fast that Smitty never had a second chance to fire. There was a crack as Smitty's neck was broken. A heartbeat later, Tree had been shot in the head. Eddie took off and ran. He never looked back. He never saw what happened to Wagner.

He tripped. Eddie scrambled to his feet. He was not going to be killed by some naked crazy German. There! There was an old building that he could probably lose that psycho in. All he had to do was keep running.

The damage was negligible. Nine millimeter bullets were inconsequential. It would take uncountable rounds of that caliber to even dent the endoskeleton of a T-800. The surviving hostile had to be eliminated. The T-800 could not afford witnesses.

Unexpectedly, a blast of static raced through the sensory systems of the Terminator. The self-diagnostics did not pick up any faults and its sensors did not detect any high level ECM in the area. T-800 discovered his quarry, or rather what was left of it. All that remained of the young human was a charred skeleton and a massive blood stains on nearly every wall. The words _Help me, I'm always drowning…_ were written in the target's blood seven feet above the remains.

* * *

John Connor left the cheap hotel at sunrise. The old man from the train was right, Auburn was seemingly empty. Sure, there were a number of workers at the docks but no one seemed to want to actually be in Auburn. He crossed the street and passed a Boomer's Coffee.

He had a few dollars in cash and decided to grab something. John dropped his change into the tip jar and turned to leave. The news caught his eye.

"And in other news, Fairport police, State and Federal Law Enforcement officials are asking for your help in tracking down one of the most infamous criminals in American History…"

John's eyes went wide. It was _him_ or, rather, it. The security footage of him killing three thieves in front of a store. The Terminator was naked; obviously he must have recently arrived from the future.

"This individual is wanted for the murder of over forty people in 1984, many of them police officers, and for the brazen attack on Cyberdyne Systems in 1995. He is considered extremely dangerous and under no circumstances should you approach this individual. If seen, law enforcement officials ask you to immediately call 911."

John turned to one of the Coffee shop's workers. "Excuse me."

The young woman looked up from replacing a trash bag. "May I help you with something? Is your coffee okay?"

John smiled. "Everything's fine with the coffee. I have a question. I'm new to Fairport. How far away is that area? I'd like to know my chances of running into some crazy mass murderer."

"That looks like McGregor's. That's about six blocks from here… I'm glad my fiancée is a cop."

John merely nodded and thanked the girl. He hoped that she and her future husband didn't run into the T-800. Anything a cop had on him wouldn't even slow a Terminator down.

The walk to McGregor's was easy. The old man from the train hadn't been kidding when he said there was something unnatural about Auburn. Every conversation seemed rushed and forced.

As Connor walked deeper into Auburn, the region became more and more destitute. McGregor's was a relatively successful hardware store in a region where success was measured in staying afloat. There was a police cordon around the crime scene. John was very surprised to see several Armacham Technology Corporation security vehicles parked outside as well. John ducked into a nearby building and moved silently through the abandoned apartment complex.

There was another person staring out the window at the crime scene. "He's long gone. Damn."

John drew his pistol and deliberately cocked it. The other person's hands went up. John appraised the other person. "Why are you looking for it?"

The other person tensed. "I know your voice!"

"Turn around." John ordered.

The other man wearing loose fitting hand-me-downs turned as ordered. "Holy Shit…"

He immediately saluted. "Sergeant Ken Gantz, TechCom 419th out of the Appalachia Front, sir."

John Connor fought the urge to lower his gun. "Prove your human."

Gantz nodded. "Sure thing." He proceeded to trigger his gag reflex and vomited on the floor. Ken groaned and wiped his mouth.

John lowered his gun. "I'm surprised that I didn't send a reprogrammed Terminator back to protect me."

Ken shook his head. "That's not my primary mission, sir. Hell, you aren't supposed to be here."

"What?"

Ken peered out the window and noticed a strange ATC truck pull up. Several men with hoses hopped out of the back and went into another abandoned building. "You, the future you, mentioned that you never came to Fairport."

"Then why are you and a Terminator here?"

"I'm here to investigate Armacham. Why the Terminator is here? I have no idea. Skynet was smashed by that offensive Kyle told your mother about. We'd pushed that right bastard into the Canadian Rockies. Then, out of nowhere, this third army just starts overrunning everything. Tens of thousands of soldiers. Well equipped. I'm talking Particle Weapons, Hyper-velocity guns, fucking powered armor, the works. Resistance and Skynet we… we were both spread thin and exhausted from The War. These things had perfect coordination over wide fronts. At first we thought they were Skynet. Then we took a few apart. No cybernetics. It gets weirder. They were clones. A fucking clone army led by some cannibal nutcase named Paxton Fettel."

"Clones? You're serious."

"As Judgement Day, sir. Anyway, we start digging, trying to find anything we can on these clones. The only thing we can definitely confirm is that they were made by Armacham. We've found some scattered records in some of their facilities mentioning Replicas and something called Origin. That's all we got on 'em. Most of the records were destroyed during Judgment Day. They were kicking our ass sir. They even took the ruins of LA."

"That's near my base of operations."

"Yes sir. It's also what was… will, be the capital of the new human civilian government. I'm not sure what exactly happened, but you fled to Mexico with the core of TechCom. Last I heard before being sent through the TDD was that you were holding the Baja Line."

John sat down. "Holy shit. How many Time Machines are there?"

Ken sat down as well. "That we know of or control? Three. There is the Charleston one that I was sent through. The one you destroyed yourself when the Reps pushed us out of LA and the one you destroyed when you sent back Kyle Reese and the T-800 to protect you in '84 and '95."

"You're here to find out what the hell Armachan was doing and stop it."

"And to protect you in the 1 and a million chance I found you."

John laughed. "Lucky me. I'm the primary objective in a Time War."

Sergeant Gantz laughed back. "If you don't mind me saying, sir. You are the most important person since George Washington. Hell, some say since Jesus."

"I wouldn't go that far. So, Sergeant; what's our next move?"

Ken stood up. "We need to find some guy named Bill Moody. Evidently, he was doing some research on this area when before the bombs fell. I figure, we find him, we find evidence on the Reps and if we're lucky, what this Origin thing is."

"Understood. What's so big about this Origin thing anyway?"

Ken took a deep breath. "Not sure, really. Maybe it's some kind of advanced satellite Armacham launched and Skynet subverted? We know that Armacham and the Reps call it the Mother of the Apocalypse."

* * *

The man sat in the cell, meditating. There was something tugging at the edges of his sanity. At times, the tugs were so strong, he would physically twitch. _She_ was approaching.

_Fire. I have been dreaming of fire and judgment of Blood and metal. Of her…_

Outside, a trail of bloody foot prints approached the cell. Another mental tug and physical twitch forced the man to open his eyes. There was a woman or girl's outline in the window. The door opened and there _she_ was.

"**Kill them. Kill them **_**all**_**." **The voice filled his mind and seared his soul. Paxton Fettel screamed as his will was cast aside. He would find _her_ and set _her _free.


End file.
